


all the ash the burnt roses leave

by congratsyouvegrownasoul



Series: the only hope; or else despair [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Can't we all just get along?, Fire Nation Royal Family, Gen, Kid Fic, Zuko POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 12:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10536105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/congratsyouvegrownasoul/pseuds/congratsyouvegrownasoul
Summary: Zuko and Azula cope with their mother's disappearance (or not).





	

Zuko barely sleeps for a week after his father’s coronation. He misses his mother’s goodnight kisses, her soft voice in his ear as she tucks him into bed. He is almost eleven years old and should be able to go to sleep alone, he scolds himself, but the thought rings hollow. It’s different because she is _gone_ ; because he may never see her again. Curled up under the bedcovers, he mouths his favorites of her stories, hoping the repetition will bring him some comfort.

When he does sleep, he is tormented by nightmares. He sees the great golden coffin from his grandfather’s funeral, flames licking its sides and making the hot metal glow. In his dreams, Zuko finds himself drawn inexorably to the gaping mouth of the coffin. He wants to close his eyes, but he can’t. Inside the coffin, he sees not his grandfather’s weathered old face, but his mother—young, beautiful, and ghostly. Her skin is almost translucent—the pallor of a corpse.

Zuko wakes up whimpering like a hurt animal, tears leaking from under his eyelids. He sits up in bed, staring out at the far dark corners of his room, heart beating fast with panic. The very size of the room feels oppressive, a vast empty space waiting to swallow him up.

Zuko feels a piercing pang of loneliness, but at first he can’t think of anyone to talk to. The very idea of waking up his father because he had a bad dream makes him want to curl up and die of shame. His uncle is still slowly making his way back from the Earth Kingdom—Zuko imagines that he’s not quite ready to face his newly crowned younger brother. Besides, Zuko wouldn’t want to burden him any further, given the state of heartbreak he must be in over Lu Ten’s death. It’s not as if Zuko can talk to one of his servants about this, either; his feelings are too vulnerable to be shared with someone beneath him.

Then, he remembers the one person who might understand. As fraught as his relationship with his sister sometimes is, surely Azula must miss their mother too.

So he pads quietly down the hallway, barefoot, until he reaches the ornate wooden door of Azula’s own bedroom. He lingers on the threshold for a moment, because it’s the middle of the night and he’s nervous about potentially waking his sister. Zuko steels himself and opens the door, which lets out a small, creaking moan.

Azula, he notices immediately, is not in her bed either. Zuko glances around hurriedly, and spots her small silhouette framed in one of the room’s windows. She’s sitting on the windowsill, looking out at the lights of the capitol city.

He steps forward cautiously.

“Azula?”

She turns toward him, but in the darkness he can’t see her face.

“What is it?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Well, obviously I can’t either. How am I supposed to help you?”

Zuko bites his lip timidly, then forges on, climbing up onto the windowsill beside Azula, who tucks her legs under to make room for him.

“I can’t sleep ‘cause I miss Mom.”

“Of course you do.”

Zuko bristles out of habit, before he manages to process her tone. It’s not sarcastic or mocking—just tired.

“She always loved you more anyway.”

“That’s not true!” Zuko protests.

Mothers aren’t supposed to have favorites. Ty Lee’s mother treats all of her daughters exactly the same way. And Zuko’s mom is the best mom—so she couldn’t possibly be unfair.

“Isn’t it? Whatever she did—whatever reason she left—it was to protect you.”

Zuko’s breath catches in his throat. Even in the space of a week, it’s become clear that they aren’t meant to talk about the reasons behind their mother’s disappearance. The Firelord won’t talk about it, so his children follow his lead and keep silent. Even in the still of the night, it feels oddly reckless for Azula to bring it up.

“You think that makes me feel better? I just feel guilty.”

Azula looks surprised. “Why? It’s not like it’s your fault.”

“I just do, okay? If it wasn’t for me maybe she could have stayed.”

Azula turns away from him, pressing her cheek up against the glass of the window.

“If she’d stayed she’d be the Firelord’s wife. Someday she’d be the mother of the new Firelord. Why would she leave? Why would she give all that up just for you? Would she have done that for me?”

“At least no one was threatening to kill you in the first place,” Zuko mutters under his breath. Azula ignores him.

“With you she’s always going ‘don’t tease precious, darling Zuko because he messes everything up, it’s just how he is.’ But with me it’s always ‘don’t do that, Azula. Be more ladylike, Azula. Be nicer.’ It’s like she always wants me to be less than I am. Why can’t I be just how _I_ am?”

Zuko draws back, surprised. It had never occurred to him that Azula—brilliant, talented Azula— might be jealous of _him._ His sister is undeniably their father’s favorite, showered with his praise and attention, while Zuko feels overshadowed and ignored. Could Azula possibly feel the same way about their mother?

“It’s not fair,” Azula says. “Mom loves you more and I don’t know why, and now I’ll never get to ask her or make her proud of me.”

Zuko realizes suddenly that she is crying. He stares at her in shock; he’s rarely seen Azula cry.

“I think you miss her too,” he says softly once he recovers himself. “It’s okay to be upset.”

He reaches out to hug her, but she pushes him away.

“Go away, Zuko. I don’t need to be coddled. I’m not like you.”


End file.
